


My Boy

by bellam_w



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Established Relationship - ish, Fluff, Hickies, Kissing, Love, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 17:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13104741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellam_w/pseuds/bellam_w
Summary: ,,In fact, Mickey was the first one to leave a hickey. He knew that Ian wouldn’t do it first, not wanting to push boundaries. It made Mickey’s heart swell, albeit slightly guiltily, knowing that Ian was waiting for him, not forcing something because he knew that Mickey would get to it when he felt comfortable with it.''





	My Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the continued support on my previous fics. At the moment there's only Mickey/Ian up, so feel free to go and check them out, too, if you'd like.

When they’d first started banging, Mickey was adamant that no marks were left. Although, because Ian was a cheeky fuck, he’d leave small fingerprint bruises on Mickey’s hips. Nobody needed to know, but Mickey would stare at them whenever he got the chance. He’d run his fingers over them in the shower, try to replicate them when he was in the safety of his own room. He could never do it, though, Ian’s hands were too big for Mickey to be able to match his fingers to the ghost of Ian’s.

If Ian had fucked him hard, the bruises stuck around for a week or so. If he hadn’t have been so punishing, they lasted for a few days, sometimes they didn’t show up at all. Mickey hated to watch them fade, watch as they blurred out to be overlapped by pale skin rather than a deep bruise.

Mickey had drawn the line, though. He let Ian leave the small hip bruises, partly because he knew Ian didn’t have much control over it. But everything else was off limits. No bruises anywhere else, no scratches and, most importantly, no hickies. Hickies would only lead to disaster. Someone would see as ask who gave them to him and he’d panic and then they’d know something was up.

He also remembers a rant his father had gone on when Iggy had come home with a small hickey that peaked out from the neck of his t-shirt. It was barely visible, but Terry had seen it. “I don’t want to be seeing any of that shit on my sons!”, he’d bellowed angrily, “You don’t wear the marks of a woman! You don’t let a woman mark you!”. Needless to say, he’d made no comment when Mandy came home with a full stripe of them on her neck.

That was before Terry was hauled back off to the joint and before he’d come out. Before Ian had meant more than ‘maybe’ to him. Before he wanted everyone to know just how good Ian gave it and how good Ian gave it to him and only him.

It was a slow go. Ian never made a big song and dance about any progression on Mickey’s part, knowing it would send him straight back into his shell. But when Mickey first asked Ian to fuck him with him on his back, Ian could barely contain his excitement.

Mickey was nervous. The knowledge of how vulnerable he’d be ran wildly through his head, endless circles of it. But, oh, was it worth it. It was an entirely new angle and Mickey couldn’t help but drag his fingers down Ian’s back, his short nails leaving tiny welts in the skin. If anything, it just spurred Ian on more, causing Mickey to grip tighter.

From then, gone were the days where Mickey would be bent over from start to end. He’d turn around eventually, gripping onto Ian’s shoulders, leaving small, purple half-moons in the place of his fingers. Mickey still had the hip bruises, too. It lit a warmth in his chest knowing that he and Ian had matching marks. Ian wore Mickey’s prints just as Mickey did Ian’s.

It was nice when they started kissing more. Sure, Mickey liked it when Ian kissed him hard or licked into his mouth as he ploughed him into the mattress, but he liked Ian’s little kisses. Like the way he’d kiss the top of his head as he sat Mickey’s coffee cup down on the kitchen table. Or the way he’d kiss Mickey’s cheek quickly before he dashed out of the house. Or the times when Ian would press a kiss to his forehead just as Mickey was falling asleep or when he was pressed up against Ian on the Gallagher couch during movie night.

Mickey’s favourite kisses, though, were the lazy ones. They didn’t always happen in bed, in fact most didn’t. The one he remembered the most was when he and Ian were stood in the kitchen. They weren’t alone in the house, but then they never were, but they were alone in the kitchen. Mickey had found himself in Ian’s embrace, his hands holding on loosely to Ian’s hips. He looked up, meeting the redhead’s intense gaze. Mickey then stood on his toes, leaning towards Ian’s lips tentatively. The kiss was slow, an outlet of emotions. Both of them knew that it wasn’t an invitation for anything more, just a kiss for kissing sake. Ian’s hand rested on the small of his back, the other cupping his jaw.

In fact, Mickey was the first one to leave a hickey. He knew that Ian wouldn’t do it first, not wanting to push boundaries. It made Mickey’s heart swell, albeit slightly guiltily, knowing that Ian was waiting for him, not forcing something because he knew that Mickey would get to it when he felt comfortable with it.

They hadn’t been having sex, or even building up to it, when Mickey left the hickey. Ian was laid on his back, arm around Mickey, who was laid on his side, dragging his fingers up and down his back languidly. The younger boy was mumbling something that Mickey wasn’t paying much attention to. He’d left a few kisses on Ian’s collarbone, leading towards his shoulder. Mickey worked slowly, carefully. He nipped and sucked, kissing over the spot on the ball of Ian’s shoulder before pulling back, looking into his eyes. “Are you sure?”, Ian asked, pulling Mickey towards him for a kiss.

“Yeah”, Mickey had whispered against Ian’s lips, returning to the kiss as soon as possible.

Mickey had begun to worry that he’d pushed for something that Ian wasn’t comfortable with. Of course, he didn’t say anything to Ian, but he was beginning to regret leaving the hickey. Ian hadn’t returned the favour, something Mickey had both wanted and expected. He hadn’t even left one the next time they fucked, or the time after that.

“Everything okay, Mick?”, Ian had asked one day. They were sat at the table with the rest of the Gallaghers. It wasn’t the time nor the place to tell Ian, even if he was going to. He hadn’t planned on saying anything about it, honestly.

“Fine, Gallagher”, he beamed. Ian had stood, going to put his plate in the sink. He wandered back to Mickey, bending down to hug around his shoulders from behind. It was something Ian did quite often, the rest of the Gallaghers were completely desensitized to his and Ian’s displays, anyway.

“I’ve got a surprise for you tonight”, Ian mumbled, voice deep and thick. He pressed a kiss onto the column of Mickey’s neck, dragging his teeth along his earlobe teasingly, before pulling back and sending Mickey a wink.

That night, Fiona was working, Lip was with a girl, no doubt staying there afterwards, Carl was at a friend’s and Debbie was with Liam at Sheila’s. “Not had you all to myself in so long”, Ian had groaned quietly into his ear. “G’nna make sure you remember it, though”, he whispered, pressing a hard kiss to his lips.

   ______________________________________________________________________________

Ian’s mouth started at the corner of Mickey’s. He left a trail of wet kisses from Mickey’s jaw down to his chest. The cold air stuck to the wet marks, causing Mickey to shiver and arch up into Ian’s light touch. Once Ian’s trail reached Mickey’s sternum, he began to press harder.

Mickey let out a quiet moan when Ian began to nip at the skin on his chest. He rested a hand in the red locks, encouraging Ian to keep going. Ian sucked and nipped from between Mickey’s nipples and all the way down to his belly button. He pulled back, scooting further down the bed and looked Mickey in the eyes, holding the eye-contact, as he sucked one final bruise into the space between Mickey’s naval and the band of his boxers.

Ian and Mickey awoke suitably marked. Ian had hickies dotted around his chest and shoulders, none visible if he wore a shirt, and had scratches from the tops of his shoulders right down to his hips. Mickey had never raked the same place twice, meaning numerous lines were welted into Ian’s back, not just 8. Some were darker than others, some more raised. One or two had actually scabbed over due to Mickey breaking the skin, something that Ian had been very much into apparently – if his moans and hard thrusts were anything to go by.

Mickey had dark bruises on his hips, too, perhaps the darkest they’d ever been. The hickies on his chest had gotten darker overnight, the centres of some of them developing into the same dark purple of the hip bruises. “They look so good on you”, Ian had whispered into his ear as he woke up, “My boy, all marked up”, he muttered sleepily.

In the past, the possessiveness in Ian’s voice would’ve terrified him. But now, it filled him with a glowing fire of love and happiness and safety. Because, while he knew he was very much Ian’s, Ian was also very much Mickey’s. The marks on his shoulders and chest and back just reinforced that. Nobody else had left those marks, they were Mickey’s marks on Mickey’s Ian.

Just like the first time, they hadn’t been fucking or building up to fucking when Mickey left the first visible hickey on Ian’s neck. They’d been sat on the Gallagher couch, of all places. Everyone was somewhere, Lip was definitely with Mandy, somewhere out of the house, and Carl was somewhere with Frank, also out of the house. He was pretty sure that Debbie was playing with Liam and Fiona was with Vee.

Mickey turned, sitting up so that he could reach his leg over and straddle Ian. The redhead had looked confused, but, nonetheless, immediately put his hands onto Mickey’s sides. He was pulled into a kiss by Mickey, one of his small hands slotting up underneath Ian’s jaw. He copied Ian’s actions, trailing a line of short pecks from his mouth to his neck. Mickey was peppering small pecks to Ian’s neck when he reached his tongue out to lick a stripe from the front of his throat, up to the corner of his jaw, just below his ear. “’m gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine”, Mickey mumbled, pressing one last kiss near Ian’s ear before working his way back down.

Ian groaned, using his hands on Mickey’s hips to hold him closer, as Mickey kissed and sucked at Ian’s neck. At first, he was planning on making it small but definitely discernible, but his own words had jeered him on. He wanted everyone to know that Ian was off limits, that Ian had a somebody and that somebody was a Milkovich.

It ended up looking like two hickies. One started an inch or so over from Ian’s Adam’s apple and was around about an inch wide. The other one was higher up and darker, brushing the base of Ian’s jawline. When Mickey pulled back, he admired his work, as cheesy as it sounds. He looked to Ian’s face, a blissed-out smile falling over his face. Mickey smiled, pressing a last kiss onto Ian’s lips.

Ian’s hands were stopping Mickey from shifting back to sit back down, so Mickey just tucked his head into the freshly marked neck and shut his eyes. Every time he breathed, the smell of Ian’s skin invaded his nose, only this time it was tainted with the smell of Mickey, too. The older boy couldn’t help but smile.

Mickey ended up letting out a small yelp, mainly from shock, when he felt Ian’s lips on his neck. He let out a soft moan when Ian first started to nibble and suck and lick. Mickey wouldn’t admit to it, but a small, needy, displeased whine escaped his lips when Ian pulled back a few seconds later. Just from the hot feeling on his neck, Mickey knew that the mark on his neck wouldn’t be as big or dark as the one he’d planted onto Ian’s neck.

They didn’t move, stayed in their position on the couch. Mickey had started to doze off, face still cradled in the nook of Ian’s neck and shoulder. Ian’s hands on his waist were reassuring and grounding, allowing Mickey to drift off to sleep happily.

That evening, Mickey was especially clingy, even if he wouldn’t fess up to it. He held Ian’s hand under the table as they ate. When Lip took the seat on the couch next to Ian, who was curled up in the corner, he glared at him. “What’s up, Mickey?”, Lip asked teasingly.

“You know what, asshole”, he muttered grumpily.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about”, Lip smirked, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth to hide his laughter.

Just as Mickey was about to tell Lip to get off Ian and where to go instead, Ian caught his eye, calming him down. Lip moved after Ian had nudged him a few times with his foot. Ian dropped his knee, opening his legs, giving Mickey space to curl up against his chest. “You’re very clingy tonight”, Ian commented, resting a hand at the base of Mickey’s head.

“Don’t you fuckin’ start”, Mickey grumbled, turning to push his head further into Ian’s chest.

“Ay, it’s cute”, Ian murmured, pressing a kiss to Mickey’s forehead, causing Mickey to let out a soft sigh and let a small, tired smile fall onto his face. “Go to sleep if you want”, and Mickey could only just hear Ian’s voice. He smiled because, despite how many people were around them, Ian could always make a moment be theirs and no one else’s.

Mickey did doze off, head still pillowed on Ian’s chest. Ian kept a hand on the bottom of Mickey’s head, the other reaching to tangle their fingers together just as the shorter boy had begun to drop off to sleep.

“Just wait until Debs starts asking what happened to your neck”, Lip teased quietly when only them and Fiona were left in the room, the others having already been sent off to bed. “Didn’t think he was the type”, he commented with a smirk.

“Oh, leave him alone, Lip”, Fiona said, face giving her away entirely as she tried to hide her laugh. “I’m glad he’s getting better with that stuff, Ian. I’m happy for you”, she said softly, albeit a bit awkwardly.

Mickey started to rouse, head nuzzling into Ian’s chest. Ian shushed him quietly, rubbing the hand on the back of his head through his hair soothingly, dropping it down to hold his neck. He only looked up once Mickey stilled again, coming face to face with a dopey smile from Fiona and a smirk from Lip.

“Oh, fuck off”, he muttered, unable to hide his grin as he looked down at his boyfriend.

Ian was happy for himself, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to comment and kudos - it builds my confidence in my writing and posting so much. I also like to be able to see if you guys like where I take my works. I'm always open to prompts, too, so please, please drop those in the comments too and I'll get to it as soon as possible!


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